Legerdemain
by Avilia
Summary: AU - Awakening.  Nathaniel Howe returns home.  Follows the basic structure of Awakening with a fair bit of AU action.  Rated M for adult themes, occasional coarse language and sexual activity  if Nate's lucky
1. Prologue  Denerim

_This is so AU its like watching a Conan movie after reading Howard. Okay, maybe not quite that AU but close. Any lore violations are deliberate (mostly). It came into my head and just wouldn't go away until I wrote it down. I've very much messed with the Origins/Awakening story but tried to stay true to the characters._

_Any characters and places they recognise belong to Bioware, any they don't I made up and they belong to me._

_Oh, about the fletching, no idea if its true, so just humour me ;-) (I'm sure I've seen it somewhere though, so if I appear to have stolen the idea its very unintentional)._

* * *

><p>The Arl of Denerim's estate wasn't a place you'd usually find a mob of angry commoners, but this Arl hadn't paid his bills. Unlike previous Arls who, whatever else their crimes, made sure to keep the local merchants happy, this new one didn't seem as prudent. The guards were very preoccupied with the crowd of merchants, and so they didn't notice the four strangers coming in the gate.<p>

The _guards _didn't see the four strangers but someone did.

That someone crouched, carefully hidden in the dense foliage of a large tree, and watched the group intently. He'd not seen any of them before, but the human male with them looked familiar enough that the knew who they were. The Grey Wardens and two others, an male elf and a older human woman.

Curious that they'd come to the Arl's estate so openly. Curious but perhaps useful for his needs. He'd come here over three days to watch and plan his best way into the estate. He had thought it would be easy but the angry merchants, while distracting the guards, also meant more guards. More guards than were needed for controlling a mob of unarmed commoners?

Perhaps he'd discovered what the guards were actually guarding against. Not the merchants after all, but these intruders. Were they here for the Arl? To kill him or for some other purpose?

As he watched the four approached an elf woman who, after a short conversation, led them to the the side of the estate building. It seemed his way in had fortuitously presented itself. Slipping silently down the side of the tree he followed unnoticed in the party's wake.

"Are you sure we can trust her?"

Caeren glanced up in amusement at Alistair's rather loud whisper. "I'm sure we have no choice but to trust her." Privately she shared his distrust but what could they do? Arl Eamon had insisted they 'rescue' Anora from Howe's clutches. If indeed she really did need rescuing, which Caeren rather doubted. The slim chance she was wrong however, was enough that she'd not leave the woman in danger.

Eamon's reasoning may be that they'd need Anora's support to put Alistair on the throne, her's was not. Slipping her hand into Alistair's, Caeren rather looked forward to his reaction when he found out she'd decided Anora would make a better ruler for Ferelden.

"Something amusing my dear?" He couldn't see anything even vaguely funny about sneaking into the Arl of Denerim's house. Particularly not if he really did have Anora locked up for some nefarious purpose.

"Aren't you amused? We're going to rescue the Queen of Ferelden from the Arl of Denerim. Too funny." Caeren chuckled when he glared at her. "Lost our sense of humour have we my dear?"

"Apparently, yes, I have, because this isn't in the least funny." Alistair made sure to squeeze her hand so she didn't think he was angry with her.

The Maker must love them or else the guards were asleep today. Not one had come to challenge them and they were making enough noise to raise the dead. Even as he thought it, he heard the soft clinking of armoured feet approach. Moving quickly he slid behind a bush to await the outcome of the coming fight.

"Quick, someone's coming!" Erlina ran ahead until she was out of the way of the guards rounding the corner of the building.

They may be noisy but they were impressive enough in battle to compensate. The wardens made very short work of the unfortunate guards and were on their way quickly. Once again he followed. At some point he'd have to get past them, particularly if their goal was Rendon Howe. For now, he was content to let them smooth his path into the Estate building.

The remainder of the walk around to the rear of the building proved uneventful. When the group paused, he kept carefully away and hidden, curious to see how they intended to get inside.

"Put on the disguises while I distract the guards, hurry!"

After donning the oversized armour, Caeren quickly checked her companions. "I'm not sure this will work."

"No? Do you think two elves and two humans wearing badly fitting armour will stand out?" Alistair grinned when Zevran chuckled. "I'm sure Howe keeps lots of elves as guards. He's such a warm caring person."

They could not seriously think that armour made them look anything but suspicious? Even if you overlooked the fact that they had two elves in their group, one of them was a mage and carrying a staff. Maker they weren't very bright were they? He only hoped the guards weren't very bright either or failing that, they just survived long enough to get him inside.

The two guards at the gate walked away, following the elf woman and the badly armoured group trotted into the now unguarded gate.

Rendon Howe's guards were obviously either very poorly trained or extremely stupid. Possibly both. Shaking his head, he eased past the gate and after waiting a moment followed the group into the Estate.

He'd lost sight of them but had no trouble determining their path. Again, he shook his head. Straight into the dining hall where the bulk of the off duty guards would be resting. Sighing, he quickly checked his bearings and moved off along the hallway that ran along the side of the large room. He didn't have luxury of a disguise, no matter now flimsy, so would have to rely on stealth to see him further inside.

It took him a few minutes of eavesdropping before he realised he was on the wrong side of the Estate. Apparently the good Arl had moved himself so he could sleep beside the dungeons. Repulsive man. Another reason to kill him. Unfortunately he'd die quickly, which is more than his victims could say.

Some might think it better if Rendon Howe suffered as he'd caused others to suffer. He wouldn't allow that thought sit in his mind for any longer than a brief second. To consider giving into that temptation would make him no better than the man he was sworn to kill. A murderer he may be, but never a monster. He'd promised himself that long ago.

Picking his way carefully through the Estate he soon realised the guards weren't quite as stupid as he'd assumed. They were certainly undisciplined and lazy but in letting the warden group sneak in they were acting under orders. It seemed Rendon Howe was holding the Queen hostage and this group of wardens had to come rescue her. The Arl expected that it seemed, and he'd told his guards to let them in. Interesting. Either he was exceedingly well guarded or exceedingly arrogant. The latter was most likely.

The good news in that for him was he could pick the warden group up on their to the dungeon and follow them once more. Unless the Arl was delusional he should have stationed extra men there. Better to let the wardens clear them for him than try to sneak past and endanger his chances of reaching the Arl.

"Of course. Why did we think we could just come in and fetch Anora. Of course we'll have to hunt down Howe and steal the key from his person. Of course we will."

"Stop muttering Alistair." Caeren wanted to laugh but managed not to. "Here's the Arl's bedroom." Leading the small group through to the stairs down, she paused. "What are you doing Zev?"

"A chest, with a lock! I cannot simply walk past, this is a crime against the Maker." While he answered he quickly picked the lock. "Hmm documents." Seeing Caeren's hand held out he handed the documents to her. "No gold, no jewels, what sort of evil is this?"

"Arl Howe is a foul person Zev, he's doing this on purpose to annoy you." A quick look at the documents left Caeren stunned. "Grey Warden documents. Where did Howe find these?" She let Alistair take them. "Do you know?"

"I don't like this. It smells wrong." Why would Howe have Warden documents? With what looked like the Joining ritual and the names of his fellow Wardens written on them.

"Well, we won't know anything until we find Howe. Perhaps he'll be kind enough to explain the documents to us."

This seemed his best time to pass them. They were distracted by whatever they'd found in the chest and shouldn't notice him at all.

The stairs down led to what appeared to be a small group of cells. Only one guard that he easily bypassed. The next area was more difficult. Guarded by a group of men obviously expecting trouble. It was trapped and the men had their weapons trained on the door.

They _were_ Howe's men however and as badly trained as the rest. One coin tossed over their heads distracted them long enough for him to move into the hallway. Unsure of his direction, he decided to follow the main hall to the end. If his guess was correct, the Arl would station himself somewhere reasonably fortified with at least a handful of guards.

That may mean he'd have to kill those guards as well as the Arl. If so, he'd face that possibility when he found Rendon Howe.

There were remarkably few guards in the halls, possibly there were more in the rooms he carefully avoided. It didn't matter he supposed, a problem for the warden group to deal with. It should serve to slow them down a little and give him time to complete his task.

As he'd thought he knew when he'd found the right room. The door was open and he could see guards and what looked like mages moving around. He walked back carefully along the hallway until he could still see half of the doorway. From where he stood he could see quite clearly into the room. The Arl was standing a few paces back from the open doorway, to greet the Wardens, possibly with the intention of unsettling them. It didn't matter why, what did matter was he'd put himself in line of sight.

Easing sideways as far he was able, he slowly drew an arrow from the quiver on his back. As the bow in his left hand lifted he brought the fletching to his lips and bit down on one side of the feather to bend it slightly. It would need to move to the right in flight or he might miss his target. Notching the arrow he sighted down the shaft and let a picture of the arrow head embedding itself in the Arl's eye socket fix his aim.

Just as he loosed the string the Arl saw him. Too late to move out of the way and too late to speak. Rendon Howe died surprised and he also died knowing who killed him. The satisfaction that gave him was almost frightening.

The sounds of the wardens' battling brought him back to the moment. They were just beyond the corner and approaching quickly. They'd soon be on him if he didn't hide. Moving silently he shifted back into a dark shadow as they ran past him and into the Arl's room. Their entry was followed by sounds of a fight. Those of the Arl's men who'd been set to guard him no doubt blamed the wardens for his death. That wasn't his concern. His concern was escaping the Estate without being caught.

Caeren nudged the limp body with her foot. "He's dead." Looking up she saw Alistair was also frowning down at Howe's corpse. "Who killed him?"

"Are you asking me my dear? I certainly didn't." This was odd. Even odder than the things they usually faced. "He should be alive, shouldn't he? All those guards we had to fight past, how could anyone get in here without them seeing?"

"An assassin could." Zev moved back into the hallway. "A skilled assassin could easily bypass those cretins."

Crouching Caeren touched the shaft of the arrow stuck fast into Howe's eye socket. "Nice shot." Frowning she peered at the arrow's shaft. "Look at this."

"Very nice." It looked like one arrow had killed Howe. "Whoever it was has saved us some time at least."

"No Alistair, look. The feathers are damaged, its odd."

About to enter the room again, Zev caught movement out of the corner of his eye and hesitated. At the far end of the hallway, at the foot the stairs, a man paused to look back at him. Then seemed to disappear. "Ah huh! An assassin. Marvellous!" Shaking his head in amusement, he went to see what the Wardens were up to.

"Zev. Come and look at this." Perhaps a trained assassin would be more help than Alistair. "The feathers are damaged."

"Ah." Crouching beside Caeren, Zev touched the fletching lightly. "Yes. Control the direction of the arrow. Perhaps he makes this himself." Noticing their puzzled expressions he chuckled. "Apologies, you are not archers, I forget. Our assassin bends and perhaps wets the fletching to make the arrow follow the path he desires. It is more usual for targets that are far away. This one wishes to ensure he doesn't miss his mark."

"A Crow?"

"Oh, no, I think not, but possibly a professional, yes. If not he should be."

"I've never seen an archer do that." Wynne came closer for a clearer view. "Is it a common practice?"

"If you see an archer 'bite his fletching', as the saying goes, and his eye is on you, take my advice and hide dear Wynne. Its an old practice, usually only one who makes his own arrows will do it. One must know precisely how it will affect the flight you see. It is commonly understood by those who know such things to be the mark of a master."

"That's all very interesting but will it help us find the man who did this?" Caeren sighed and stood. "Not that it matters I suppose, another death we will take the blame for."

"This is not something that is done in Ferelden. Only in more, shall we say, exotic places. If you see another archer who does this in this country, it will be safe to assume he is your assassin."

* * *

><p>A slight wind kicked up the edges of his cape as he walked slowly along the high wall but Nate didn't notice. His attention was elsewhere, thinking about home, his family, the wardens. Halting at a parapet he stared down at the city. Amaranthine. How many years had it been since he'd seen his home? Nine, ten? Too many. Now to come only to hear news of the disgrace of his family. The innkeeper who'd happily shared the gossip had also told him the Wardens had been given Vigil's Keep and the Arling.<p>

The Vigil. Remembering his childhood home, Nate's gaze shifted across the city toward the Pilgrim's Path. His home given to those who might be held to blame for his family's misfortune. Who _were _being blamed, or congratulated, if the innkeeper was to be believed, for killing his father.

The wardens had his home and his family's belongings. They were _rewarded _for the deaths of his family. He couldn't simply do nothing to redress that. The children punished for crimes their father committed? It wasn't right. Something would have to be done. He couldn't let this stand.


	2. The Vigil

_Apologies to purists (and David Gaider of course) for my editing of the in game conversation included in here. It had to be done._

_Please forgive any errors in typing - I don't have a beta reader but I do my best to pick up any mistakes before publishing._

* * *

><p>If those years in the Free Marches had given him anything, it was an intense dislike of the cold. Nate loved his home, had missed it every day he'd not been there, but the cold, that he didn't miss. Neither the cold nor the rain. Shivering inside his increasingly wet armour, he peered through the downpour at the Vigil. The ground was sodden but he sat in the freezing rain ignoring the discomfort.<p>

It should be a simple enough matter to get inside the main keep. As a young man he'd had more than one secret way of sneaking out. That thought led to another which he firmly pushed away. Now wasn't the time to be distracted by memories.

Getting in would be simple, getting out less so. From what he'd seen there didn't appear to be many Wardens stationed here. It wouldn't do to underestimate them, however few their numbers. From what Nate knew of their recruitment practices, Wardens were carefully chosen for their skill in battle, skill that was reputed to be considerable.

The Maker appeared to possess a fine sense of irony. His home was occupied by Wardens, not just any Wardens, but _Orlesian_ Wardens. Orlesians occupying a home given to his father for service during the rebellion. The man who had managed lose an arling through his own rampant ambition to the very people he'd won it from. Oh, yes, very ironic. Turning his face up towards the sky, he felt the drops smack sharply against his chilled skin. Perhaps it should be the Maker he hunted and not the Wardens?

Humour was as useless as pining after memories. Moving his gaze back to the Vigil, Nate focused his mind. It was unlikely he'd manage to find and kill the Commander and also leave without being detected. They were w_ardens_ after all. Nate could admit to himself that he shared the slightly superstitious awe felt by the common folk when it came to wardens. They ended Blights and slew Archdemons for Andraste's sake, how could he hope to escape them?

Perhaps he shouldn't, perhaps it might be best if he died tonight. A fitting end to come full circle and die in the place he'd been born. Impatient with his thoughts Nate swore under his breath. He wouldn't let himself think that way. Life was the Maker's gift and it shouldn't be tossed lightly away simply because it became difficult.

Wasn't killing that elf as great a sin as killing himself? What had she done to earn that fate? Had the misfortune to make an enemy of his father? Was he really proposing to kill her for _that_? Was he killing her to revenge himself on her order for taking what was offered by the Crown? Or was it simply to make himself feel less responsible for what had happened? If he'd been here, he could have stopped his father, he _must_ have been able to somehow. If he hadn't been in the Free Marches then his father wouldn't have. He stopped that thought cold. No. What was done was done. Letting himself think about, _that_, would drive him insane. If none of this was his fault then perhaps it wasn't the Wardens' either.

He still couldn't do nothing, his life was in there, everything left of his family. He wanted something more than memories as a reminder of them. Something precious that nobody but he would care about. It wasn't difficult to decide what that something should be. His mother's letters. The ones she'd written to him so long ago. If his father hadn't found them the wardens certainly wouldn't. It mattered not a whit any longer, all the players were dead, but Nate knew his mother wouldn't want any eyes on them save his.

He'd break into the Vigil, find his mother's letters and leave. Safely and undetected. And after that? What would he do? What? Eyes tightly closed, Nate rested his forehead on his raised knee and tried to convince himself he cared what happened. There was no one left but him now, no family, no friends, nothing. His father had neatly destroyed everything in one fell swoop.

This was pointless. He could decide what to do once he was out of the Vigil. For now his focus should be on getting in. Shaking off his mood, he stood, then after gathering his pack and weapons, jogged lightly across the muddy ground.

The heavy rain was an annoyance but also a gift. Any guards the wardens had watching from the walls wouldn't be able to see further than their own noses. Even though he'd not seen his home in many years, Nate ran through the dark wet trees with the comfort of familiarity. Trees don't change. Skimming the edge of the last few before the clearing, he dipped his head and ran for the wall that skirted the Vigil grounds. Rain meant no moon but he wouldn't chance some stray torch light reflecting on his face.

Once at the wall he walked slowly along the boundary, one hand tracing the stones. There. They hadn't repaired the footholds he'd carved out. Reaching up he found the higher one and pulled himself up the wall. It was a matter of a minute before he reached the top and was crouched balanced on the wooden top.

If the rain obscured the guards' view it also obscured his. His advantage was that the guards in the watch towers would be looking out at the woods and not in at the Vigil. Until he was inside the building, Nate was reasonably sure he could avoid being seen. Once inside however he'd have little time before the wardens caught him. If he intended to retrieve the letters and escape, he'd have to be fast.

Keeping that thought in mind, Nate started moving across the top of the wall towards Keep proper.

As he'd expected Nate had no trouble getting inside the Keep and thanks to the late hour, his presence had gone unnoticed. For now.

Creeping silently along the long hallway, he glanced up at the portraits as he passed. What would his ancestors think of this? A Howe reduced to breaking into his own home to steal his rightful possessions. They'd be horrified and rightly so. Stopping under one portrait, Nate studied it. Perhaps not Great Uncle Marcus, from what his mother had told him, Marcus would want to help. Shaking his head wryly he kept moving.

If the wardens hadn't found his hiding place, the letters should still be under the loose board in the master bedroom. Hiding it under his father's nose had seemed humorous to him at one time, now it just seemed petty. His mother would have approved but Nate had long ago accepted that this mother wasn't perfect. She'd been petty, conceited and more than a little arrogant. Unlike his father however, she'd loved her children. She'd trusted him with her secrets and he'd keep them as he'd promised, even if it meant his own death.

"Templars? Eh, I hate them."

Nate halted just outside an open door and waited. Guards by the sound of it, not wardens.

"They're doing the Maker's work, don't you be saying they're bad."

Maddern scowled blackly into his ale. "I don't like how they look at me, like they're better than I am." Hearing his fellow guard scoff his scowl deepened. "They been rough with that mage, I don't like it."

"He's a mage Maddern. What they do with him is their business not ours."

"They've locked him in the cells down near the entry. Away from us, where we can't see them. Why's that?"

"Leave it alone Maddern, its not our concern."

Taking advantage of their distraction, Nate quickly moved past the room and down the hallway. He'd come in from the roof which meant he'd only have to go down one floor to find his father's former bedroom.

His luck held as he moved through the Keep. It was late enough that most of the guards must be off duty or asleep and perhaps they didn't assign wardens to watch at night. That seemed lax to Nate but he wasn't a warden. He supposed they knew their own business best.

When he reached the master bedroom, Nate was relieved to see the door open and the room in darkness. Creeping slowly inside he unsheathed the dagger at his belt and moved to the bed. Empty. Where was the Commander? Dipping to a crouch he scanned the room as best he could. Nothing. He was starting to hope the Maker's sense of humour had found another target.

Reminding himself he needed to be quick, Nate looked around for the corner he wanted and crouched. The board was still a little loose and it didn't take much effort to pry it up and remove the small packet he'd hidden inside. Time to leave before his luck, or the Maker's patience, ran out.

He was halfway up the stairs to the roof when he paused. Swearing silently, he turned and ran quickly down to the front hall. Here he found the wardens he'd avoided earlier. Two of them. Two. Lovely. Taking a deep breath Nate reminded himself of something his mother liked to say. "Nothing lost by trying dear." Arming himself with his daggers he ran at them.

Surprise gifted him the first of them, surprise and a quick pommel strike to the head. The second, now armed and ready, put up more of a fight. A short, brutal fight that ended with Nate standing, feeling a little stunned, over the fallen body of the warden. Perhaps he'd overestimated the warden's skill against anything but darkspawn or perhaps he'd used whatever good luck he had left.

Hearing running footsteps, Nate raced to the side door and across to the cells. His luck was up it seemed but perhaps it would hold long enough. Throwing the door open he skidded across the floor and slammed face first against the bars. He hoped to the Void what he wanted was here. Nate would hate to think he'd wasted his chance to get away. There. Snatching the key off the hook he threw it into the cell where it bounced once then settled near the apparently sleeping mage.

As he turned to face the three wardens who'd chased him he saw the mage slide the key under the matting.

"You have chosen the wrong place to steal from, thief."

Nate took a few steps away from the cell to give himself room and unsheathed his weapons.

"You can't beat us, better for you to surrender."

Curse it, they had him boxed in. When the wardens shifted to the left and he had no choice but to move with them to keep them from getting behind him. He knew it was a mistake well before feeling the sword at his neck. A fourth warden he'd missed seeing. They'd tricked him neatly.

"Drop your weapons."

Not seeing any alternative, he opened his hands and let the daggers drop to the floor. "Going to kill me now?" The warden behind him gave him a shove in the back for his trouble. "No?"

"Don't tempt us thief." Another shove and the intruder took the hint and started walking. "Keep your hands up." They'd have to put him the cells until the Commander arrived to deal with him. Giving him another shove, Alexis pushed the thief towards the door. "Outside."

They were going to put him the cells. Nate had half hoped they'd lock him in with the mage. They might have been able to escape from there. Glancing upwards he sighed. He supposed he should be thankful they hadn't killed him out of hand. When he was pushed outside he sighed again. It was still raining.

Once outside the three wardens moved closer to their prisoner, taking a firm hold of his arms. Half dragging they pulled him inside the small jail area then threw him into the cell. "You'll wait for the Commander, she can decide your fate."

Alexis slammed the door shut then locked it. "His armour is wet."

"So? If he dies of a lung infection it will save us the trouble of executing him." Michel shrugged it off but knew Alexis wouldn't leave it at that. He growled when the senior warden jerked his head towards the chest in the corner. "Fine. Can't have the thief not comfortable." Stomping over to the chest he threw the lid open. "This will do." Scooping the pile of clothing out, he stomped back to the cell and pushed it through the bars. "Put these on thief. The senior warden is worried for your health."

...

They'd put his possessions in the chest. Leaning back against the cold wall Nate stared at it. The letters as well. The senior warden had found them when he'd searched his discarded armour. Curse it. He hadn't read them, just turned the packet in his hands a few times then tossed them in with his weapons. The armour they'd laid across the top to dry.

From what he'd heard them saying, it seemed the Commander hadn't arrived yet. Fortunate he'd reconsidered his decision to kill her. Her absence might have made things difficult if he hadn't. His own humour forced a slight smile. She'd no doubt have him executed when she did arrive. Was that more irony? Or merely poetic justice? Considering that, Nate closed his eyes. He thought the latter more likely.

He jerked in shock when something heavy slammed against the outer door. "Maker!" After that there were the muffled sounds of battle. A smell of, something, rotting flesh, he hoped it wasn't that, seeped into the room. Curse this. Getting a firm grip, Nate tried shaking the door but it was locked firmly. It had been a pointless effort but at least he'd tried something.

What in the Maker's name was going on out there? Another thud when something again slammed into the door. He didn't think whatever was hitting the door was attempting to get in, it sounded more like it was being thrown against the building. His guess was proven when he heard a low growling followed by a grunt. The grunt wasn't an angry grunt but a grunt of pain. Something large had just been killed outside the door to the cells.

After that things were quieter. Nate could hear the battle moving, then nothing.

...

"Half joking they said he might make a good warden."

Caeren rubbed her forehead. Darkspawn invasions, _talking_ darkspawn invasions, all her wardens dead, a smart arse mage, Oghren, an arling without funds and now this? "I don't have time to train recruits."

"Oh, I wouldn't think he'd take much training ser, unless those wardens were drunk."

Adding a 'thinks she's witty' guard to the list of her problems, Caeren nodded. "Fine. I'll go and speak to this thief." With the mage, who was apparently attached to her by a cord, following she walked the short distance to the cells. "Any idea who this man is Anders?"

"The Templars didn't let me out to play with the other children." Anders smirked when his new Commander growled at him. "So sorry."

"Oh for." Once, just once, she'd like this idiot mage to answer a simple question with a straight answer. "Andraste's tits you're annoying."

"I do my best." If his guess was right, this thief was the same man who was responsible for his being alive. The answer to why he'd given him the key to his cell would have to be found later, for now Anders would have to content himself with observing. When the Commander went to speak to the guard he stared in at the prisoner until he finally looked in his direction. His nod was answered with a raised eyebrow. Unfriendly sod.

"Leave me to speak with him." Once the guard was gone, Caeren unlocked the cell door and stepped inside. She didn't think the prisoner was going to attack her, he didn't look particularly aggressive, just angry.

Nate stood when the elf came into his cell. The woman was either very confident or very stupid. She did have the mage with her, perhaps that would account for it if it was confidence. "So, you're the hero of Ferelden? Not what I was expecting."

Interesting, he didn't sound like a common thief. "What were you expecting?"

"From the stories I expected you to be ten feet tall with lightning bolts shooting out of your. Eyes."

"That depends how angry people make me." Eyes, sure, you really meant eyes, ser thief.

"And then you kill them? Isn't that what you wardens do?" Nate had no idea why he was needling her. Odds were if he annoyed her, she'd have him executed.

"Kill them? Only if they force me." The prisoner glared at her and stepped closer. Caeren glanced back at Anders when he shifted but he didn't come inside the cell.

"My name is Nathaniel Howe. I came here intending to kill you." If that didn't convince her to kill him, nothing would.

Oh. Well. That explained why he thought she liked to kill people. "Your father brought his fate on himself."

"Whatever my father may have done shouldn't affect his whole family. The Howes are pariahs now, what's left of them. Its all thanks to you grey wardens, and now you get to decide my fate. Ironic isn't it?"

Caeren actually agreed with that. She didn't think Howe's crimes should be brought to bear on his children either. Child, she should say. "I understand we had problems capturing you?" She _couldn't_ be thinking what she was thinking. Could she?

"I'm not without skills." The woman obviously thought he was one of those soft skinned, fat bellied nobles she'd seen in Denerim. "My time in the Free Marches wasn't spent drinking wine and chasing skirts."

Chasing skirts? The man was either pulling her leg or completely without humour. Caeren hoped it was the second, one comedian was more than enough. "What skills are those?"

Nate hesitated. "Hunting, scouting, poisons. Why, what do you care?"

Good question Howe, why _did_ she care? She should call Varel in here and tell him to execute this man. "What will you do if I let you go?"

"Let me go!" The woman was clearly insane. He didn't know how the wardens had missed the signs. "If you let me go, I might come back, you might not catch me next time."

"You're not making the best case for yourself."

"I could lie, if you prefer."

Ah huh! Caught you Howe. Caught you. "Do you really hate the grey wardens so much?"

"The darkspawn are a menace and if it weren't for the Blight, maybe my father wouldn't have, done, what he did, but I can't do anything about them can I? There's just you and the grey wardens, here, in my home."

That final little speech convinced Caeren her gut was right. It was always right and she'd learned to listen to it. "I've decided what to do with you."

This waiting would finally be over, thank the Maker. "Already. Good!"

Caeren turned to the guard. "Fetch the Seneschal for me please." Hearing the mage clear his throat she turned around to face him. "Anders?"

"Commander, I know I'm new but I think." He stopped when she lifted her hand. "No?" She smiled. "Ah. Alright." It seemed they were thinking the same thing. He'd have hated to see Howe executed after he'd apparently risked his life to help a stranger. "Good."

It would be a lie to say Caeren didn't enjoy the Varel's reaction to her decision. He seemed a nice enough human, but just a little pompous.

"The right of conscription Commander, on the prisoner!" Varel knew he was gaping but couldn't help himself.

This was the last thing Nate had expected. "No! Never. Kill me instead."

"Did I say I was giving you a choice?" When he glared at her, Caeren wanted to grin.

"Do you really want a Howe as a warden? You are a very strange woman."

Finally she could let the grin out. "You're not the first man to tell me that." This was a good day. She'd found herself a couple of very nicely trained wardens and she managed to disconcert two humans. "Tell me, Nathaniel, can you use a bow?" Interesting the way he reacted to that question. "The guard told me we have your weapons in the chest here. Daggers."

"Is that a problem?"

"Not really, I just think a bow would be more useful against the darkspawn. We have Anders here but he's more of a healer, so I'd really like someone who can kill at range." His eyes narrowed before he nodded.

"I've had occasion to use a bow. I'm sure with, practice, my skill will improve."


End file.
